she grovel when turnips bouy on the stew water surface
refracted somewhere ‘tween meniscus cosmic broth sentients
this is not the Stoli you know from northern noted evenings on photaic planes
she’ll tell your story for a Susan B. Anthony dollar while snoring misfits of the season away
so introduce me. push on with me. help this vision. I’m stuck in the kitchen.
best friends on fences burnin bridges buildin’ shelter for blood cousins, deviants and nymphs
The Realm 